


Enchanted

by chocolatentropy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Professor Sherlock, Professor!Lock, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Valentine, Student Molly, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatentropy/pseuds/chocolatentropy
Summary: before he knew itthe Beast was enchanted bythe lovely white Roselike the glass, he vowedto shelter her innocenceand love from afarA Valentine's Day special set in my Professor Sherlock and Student Molly AU :)





	1. Rose

Molly Hooper stared at the rose, and it stared back -or at least that's what it seemed like to her.

 

When she opened her locker door that morning, she definitely did not expect to see a glass-encased rose, its petals pale as ivory, nestled among her books and sundry school supplies.

 

Sure, it was Valentine's Day, but never in her sixteen years of existence had this day been anything other than an ordinary one for her. The only time she has ever received a Valentine was back in nursery, where a dark-haired boy whose name she could no longer recall gave her the ratty Valentine each of them had to make during art class, under their teacher's supervision.

 

She looked around.

   


Students were milling about on the hallway, since it was a good ten minutes before the first bell, but she could not detect anyone who could be surreptitiously observing her.

 

She looked back at the rose, and noticed for the first time a small white square of paper at the foot of the glass case. Biting her lip, she took the card and flipped it over. On it, were two simple verses:

 

_before he knew it_

_the Beast was enchanted by_

_the lovely white Rose_

_like the glass, he vowed_

_to shelter her innocence_

_and love from afar_

 

Molly read the verse another time, then another, her cheeks heating up.

Could this really be for her? Surely there was some mistake. How could anyone even think she was lovely, much less be enchanted by her?

 

And for goodness' sake, who could possibly know her locker combination?

 

Once more she went over the verses, and with a jolt realized that they were in haiku form. She counted the syllables in each line, and sure enough, they were in 5-7-5 counts. Just yesterday, Professor Holmes discussed haiku in class, so the lesson was still fresh in her mind.

 

Professor Holmes...

 

Molly shook her head. She was starting to think ridiculous thoughts again. That night at the party was a mistake, the mysterious stranger someone she is unlikely to ever meet again, and he could not possibly be who she fancied him to be.

 

She took her books, slammed her locker door shut, and headed to her first class, which was, as luck would have it, Literature.

 

As she neared her desk, her steps slowed down.

 

Thomas, the tall, dark-haired kid who sat behind her in most of her classes, was standing by her desk, holding a heart-shaped box. He was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting, his ears red.

 

Molly cleared her throat, and his head shot up. Upon seeing her, a flush crawled its way up from his neck to his cheeks.

 

"M-Molly, hi!"

 

"Uhm... Hello, Tom. Erm... You're at my desk."

 

He looked down at her desk as if seeing it for the first time, then, recovering himself, blurted, "Oh! Right, of course, right... I just... Well..." He thrust the box at her, and Molly stepped back to keep it from hitting her in the face. "W-will you be my valentine?"

 

Oh.

 

"Oh."

 

Tom's eyes kept darting back and forth between her and the ground, his face now violently red. Their classmates were staring at them, some of them jeering.

 

"Uhm..." She hesitantly reached out and took the box. She should be happy, really. Flattered, even. But why did her emotions feel so much like... disappointment?

   


"So... You must be the one who left the flower in my locker, then..."

 

This surprised him into looking back at her.

 

"Flower? What... I don't know... I didn't leave a flower at your locker."

 

"Oh, but then..."

 

"Settle down, everyone."

 

Molly's spine stiffened at Professor Holmes' deep, commanding voice. Around her, her classmates started settling into their desks. Tom shot her a look that was half worried, half hopeful, before shuffling off to his own desk.

 

For a moment, she stood there awkwardly holding the box of chocolates, not knowing quite what to do with it, before realizing that she was the only one not yet seated.

 

She look over her shoulder to see Professor Holmes regarding her with an amused expression. His gaze fell to the box in her hands, and his lips slowly set into a straight line, as all amusement faded from his eyes.

 

Was it just her imagination, or did his expression darken?

 

She took her seat, and chided herself for being silly.

 

"Today, we are going to discuss Cupid and Psyche, and draw the parallels between this work and Beauty and the Beast."

 

Molly looked up to see Professor Holmes staring right at her. She frowned.

 

For the rest of the lesson, she couldn't help but wonder, her rioting thoughts going places she knew were bordering dangerous territory.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He also felt a fierce protectiveness towards her. She possessed a rare sort of innocence, untouched by the world and all its corruptive influence. It was so rare that he wanted to preserve it.
> 
>  
> 
> Yet at the same time, this dark, twisted part of him wanted to tarnish it. He clenched his fists. No. No. No. That night... That night was a mistake. It was a lapse in his much valued self-control. He cannot, must not touch her again, not in that way.
> 
>  
> 
> No matter how much he wanted to.

Sherlock Holmes was going mad.

 

That was the only explanation for his behavior these past weeks.

 

What was he thinking, slipping that invitation into her locker? And showing up like a stalker, just as she stood alone in the dark, pouncing on her like a predator...

 

Kissing her.

 

Then stalking off like a man pursued by demons.

 

Which he was, in a way. Except his demons came in the form of an angel named Molly Hooper.

 

And now, he was standing in front of her locker at 5:00 am in the morning, carrying a glass case that held a preserved rose, its petals a white as pure as Molly Hooper herself.

 

With hands that trembled only very slightly, he entered her locker combination (easy to deduce, really - her favorite number written on her jersey uniform for PE classes, followed by the last two digits of her year of birth), opened the door, took the briefest of moments to catalogue the contents of her locker (a family photo -Molly favors her mother, though her smile is her father's -stuck to the inside of the door, school books, a case holding pencils and pens of different colors, a yellow eraser, a small yellow pencil sharpener, and a six-inch ruler with a cat sticker on one end, and a leather-bound journal with a pink ribbon sticking out from between its pages), and moved things around a bit to make space for the glass case before carefully placing it at the very middle. After relocking the door, he quickly made his way to his office before anyone chanced upon him standing in front of one of his students' locker at a suspiciously early time of the morning.

 

Once inside his office, he shut the door and leaned against it. He lifted his hand to cover his eyes, massaging either temple with the thumb and middle finger.

 

He was a self-admitted sociopath.

Was he a pervert too?

 

He pushed himself off the door and moved to sit behind his desk. He stared at the lesson plan for the day -Cupid and Psyche vis-a-vis Beauty and the Beast -and chuckled sardonically. Yesterday, he talked about the Japanese traditional haiku. Now, this. Molly was one of the brightest students he has ever had. It wouldn't be difficult for her to make the connections, no matter how much her mind might tell her how improbable the conclusion was.

 

After all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

 

But did he want her to know?

 

With a groan, he dropped his head into his hands, clutching at his hair.

 

He didn't know the answer to that himself. He knew that it was, from society's viewpoint, wrong. He was a fully grown man, a professional entrusted with the molding of these students' minds. She was his student, and 10 years his junior to boot.

 

And yet, what he felt for her...

 

What _did_ he feel for her?

 

He bounded up from his chair and started pacing in front of his desk.

 

What _did_ he feel for Molly Hooper?

 

He was... _fascinated_ by her, he would admit that. She was very bright, yet blind to her own light. In fact, it seemed that most people were. But then again, most people were idiots. But Molly wasn't. She was different, more like him than she was like them. He knew that while she did not speak her thoughts out loud, she observed more than most. From her writings in class, he could tell that she had an insight into human nature that was advanced for her age -in fact, for most people of any age. She was kind, but she had a backbone. She would yield and give way most of the time, but she stood up for things she believed were worth putting up a fight for. She was giving to a fault, but had a strong moral compass. She was driven, but unwilling to step on others to achieve what she wanted. She was a study in contradictions, in the most beautiful way imaginable.

 

He also felt a fierce protectiveness towards her. She possessed a rare sort of innocence, untouched by the world and all its corruptive influence. It was so rare that he wanted to preserve it.

 

Yet at the same time, this dark, twisted part of him wanted to tarnish it. He clenched his fists. No. No. No. That night... That night was a mistake. It was a lapse in his much valued self-control. He cannot, _must not_ touch her again, not in that way.

 

No matter how much he wanted to.

 

Once she reads that poem, she will know.

Perhaps the poem might only plant the idea in her head, but after today's lesson, she _will_ know.

 

He will proceed with the lesson, but that's as far as it would go. He would keep his distance, as he said in those verses, and be content with that.

 

Having settled this, he went to class in a more or less even mood. He was pretty determined to carry out his plan too, until he saw the heart-shaped box in Molly's hand, and the hopeful glances that tall dark-haired classmate of hers -Tobias? No, Thomas, the one he noticed has obviously been interested in her for a while now -kept throwing at her.

 

That was the exact moment, Professor Holmes was sure, his resolve flew out the classroom window, reason following closely behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I know I said this is going to be a two-part fic, but the story is kind of just running ahead of me. I will try my best to wrap it up by the next chapter, but I don't know... Professor Holmes and little Molly Hooper seem to have their own ideas about where their story will go.  
> Enjoy!:)


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